Jack Kerouac’s Naval Reserve Enlistment Mugshot, 1943

kerouac mugshot

In the sum­mer of 1942, Jack Ker­ouac fol­lowed in the foot­steps of Joseph Con­rad and Eugene O’Neill and went to sea. After drop­ping out of Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty the pre­vi­ous Fall, the 20-year-old Ker­ouac signed up for the mer­chant marine and shipped out aboard the U.S. Army Trans­port ship Dorch­ester.

Although World War II had bro­ken out at about the time of his depar­ture from Colum­bia, Ker­ouac’s motives for going to sea were more per­son­al than patri­ot­ic. “My moth­er is very wor­ried over my hav­ing joined the Mer­chant Marine,” Ker­ouac wrote in his jour­nal at the time, “but I need mon­ey for col­lege, I need adven­ture, of a sort (the real adven­ture of rot­ting wharves and seag­ulls, winey waters and ships, ports, cities, and faces & voic­es); and I want to study more of the earth, not out of books, but from direct expe­ri­ence.”

In Octo­ber of 1942, after com­plet­ing a voy­age to and from an Army com­mand base in Green­land (which he would lat­er write about in Van­i­ty of Dulu­oz), Ker­ouac left the mer­chant marine and returned to Colum­bia. That was lucky, because most of the Dorch­ester’s crew–more than 600 men–died three months lat­er when the ship was tor­pe­doed by a Ger­man U‑boat. But the rest­less Ker­ouac last­ed only a month at Colum­bia before drop­ping out again and mak­ing plans to return to sea. In Decem­ber of 1942 he enlist­ed in the U.S. Naval Reserve. He want­ed to join the Naval Air Force, but failed an apti­tude test. So on Feb­ru­ary 26, 1943 he was sent to the Naval Train­ing Sta­tion in New­port, Rhode Island. That’s appar­ent­ly when the pho­to­graph above was tak­en of the young Ker­ouac with his mil­i­tary hair­cut. It would have been right around the time of his 21st birth­day.

Ker­ouac last­ed only 10 days in boot camp. As Miri­am Klie­man writes at the Nation­al Archives, “The qual­i­ties that made On the Road a huge suc­cess and Ker­ouac a pow­er­ful sto­ry­teller, guide, and lit­er­ary icon are the same ones that ren­dered him remark­ably unsuit­able for the mil­i­tary: inde­pen­dence, cre­ativ­i­ty, impul­siv­i­ty, sen­su­al­i­ty, and reck­less­ness.” Accord­ing to files released by the gov­ern­ment in 2005, Naval doc­tors at New­port found Ker­ouac to be “rest­less, apa­thet­ic, seclu­sive” and deter­mined that he was men­tal­ly unfit for ser­vice, writ­ing that “neu­ropsy­chi­atric exam­i­na­tion dis­closed audi­to­ry hal­lu­ci­na­tions, ideas of ref­er­ence and sui­cide, and a ram­bling, grandiose, philo­soph­i­cal man­ner.” He was sent to the Naval Hos­pi­tal in Bethes­da Mary­land and even­tu­al­ly dis­charged.

For more on Ker­ouac’s brief adven­ture in the Navy, read Kleiman’s Arti­cle, “Hit the Road, Jack! Ker­ouac Enlist­ed in the U.S. Navy But was Found ‘Unfit for Ser­vice’ ”

Relat­ed con­tent:

Jack Ker­ouac Reads from On the Road, 1959

Jack Ker­ouac’s 30 Rev­e­la­tions for Writ­ing Mod­ern Prose

Arthur Conan Doyle & The Cottingley Fairies: How Two Young Girls Fooled Sherlock Holmes’ Creator

Cottingley_Fairies_1_article

In a pre­vi­ous post, we brought you what is like­ly the only appear­ance on film of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle—an inter­view in which he talks of Sher­lock Holmes and spir­i­tu­al­ism. Although Conan Doyle cre­at­ed one of the most hard­nosed ratio­nal char­ac­ters in lit­er­a­ture, the author him­self lat­er became con­vert­ed to a vari­ety of super­nat­ur­al beliefs, and he was tak­en in by a few hoax­es. One such famous hoax was the case of the so-called “Cot­tin­g­ley Fairies.” As you can see from the pho­to above (from 1917), the case involved what Conan Doyle believed was pho­to­graph­ic evi­dence of the exis­tence of fairies, doc­u­ment­ed by two young York­shire girls, Elsie Wright and her cousin Frances Grif­fiths (the girl in the pho­to above). Accord­ing to The Haunt­ed Muse­um, the sto­ry of Doyle’s involve­ment goes some­thing like this:

In 1920, Conan Doyle received a let­ter from a Spir­i­tu­al­ist friend, Feli­cia Scatcherd, who informed of some pho­tographs which proved the exis­tence of fairies in York­shire. Conan Doyle asked his friend Edward Gard­ner to go down and inves­ti­gate and Gard­ner soon found him­self in the pos­ses­sion of sev­er­al pho­tos which showed very small female fig­ures with trans­par­ent wings. The pho­tog­ra­phers had been two young girls, Elsie Wright and her cousin, Frances Grif­fiths. They claimed they had seen the fairies on an ear­li­er occa­sion and had gone back with a cam­era and pho­tographed them. They had been tak­en in July and Sep­tem­ber 1917, near the York­shire vil­lage of Cot­tin­g­ley.

The two cousins claimed to have seen the fairies around the “beck” (a local term for “stream”) on an almost dai­ly basis. At the time, they claimed to have no inten­tion of seek­ing fame or noto­ri­ety. Elsie had bor­rowed her father’s cam­era on a host Sat­ur­day in July 1917 to take pic­tures of Frances and the beck fairies.

Elsie’s father, a skep­tic, filed the pho­tos away as a joke, but her moth­er, Pol­ly Wright, believed, and brought the images to Gard­ner (there were only two at first, not “sev­er­al”), who cir­cu­lat­ed them through the British spir­i­tu­al­ist com­mu­ni­ty. When Conan Doyle saw them in 1920, he gave each girl a cam­era and com­mis­sioned them to take more. They pro­duced three addi­tion­al prints. The online Muse­um of Hoax­es details each of the five pho­tos from the two ses­sions with text from Edward Gard­ner’s 1945 Theo­soph­i­cal Soci­ety pub­li­ca­tion The Cot­tin­g­ley Pho­tographs and Their Sequel.

These pho­tos swayed thou­sands over the course of the cen­tu­ry, but arch-skep­tic James Ran­di seem­ing­ly debunked them for good when he point­ed out that the fairies were ringers for fig­ures in the 1915 children’s book Princess Mary’s Gift Book, and that the prints show dis­crep­an­cies in expo­sure times that clear­ly point to delib­er­ate manip­u­la­tion. The two women, Elsie and Frances, final­ly con­fessed in the ear­ly 1980s, fifty years after Conan Doyle’s involve­ment, that they had faked the pho­tos with paper cutouts. Watch Ran­di and Elsie Wright dis­cuss the trick­ery above.

 

fairy_51

The daugh­ter and grand­daugh­ter of Grif­fiths pos­sess the orig­i­nal prints and one of Conan Doyle’s cam­eras. Both once believed that the fairies were real, but as the host explains, they were not sim­ply cred­u­lous fools. Through­out much of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, peo­ple looked at the cam­era as a sci­en­tif­ic instru­ment, unaware of the ease with which images could be manip­u­lat­ed and staged. But even as Frances admit­ted to the fak­ery of the first four pho­tos, she insist­ed that num­ber five was gen­uine. Every­one on the show agrees, includ­ing the host. Cer­tain­ly Conan Doyle and his friend Edward Gard­ner thought so. In the lat­ter’s descrip­tion of #5, he wrote:

This is espe­cial­ly remark­able as it con­tains a fea­ture quite unknown to the girls. The sheath or cocoon appear­ing in the mid­dle of the grass­es had not been seen by them before, and they had no idea what it was. Fairy observers of Scot­land and the New For­est, how­ev­er, were famil­iar with it and described it as a mag­net­ic bath, woven very quick­ly by the fairies and used after dull weath­er, in the autumn espe­cial­ly. The inte­ri­or seems to be mag­ne­tised in some man­ner that stim­u­lates and pleas­es.

I must say, I remain seri­ous­ly uncon­vinced. Even if I were inclined to believe in fairies, pho­to num­ber five looks as pho­ny to me as num­bers one through four. But the Antiques Road­show appear­ance does add a fun new lay­er to the sto­ry and an air of mys­tery I can’t help but find intrigu­ing, as Conan Doyle did in 1920, if only for the his­tor­i­cal angle of the three gen­er­a­tions of Grif­fiths who held onto the leg­end and the arti­facts. Oh, and the appraisal for the five orig­i­nal pho­tos and Arthur Conan Doyle’s cam­era? Twen­ty-five to thir­ty-thou­sand pounds—not too shab­by for an ado­les­cent prank.

Josh Jones is a free­lance writer, edi­tor, and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

What Entered the Public Domain in 2013? Zip, Nada, Zilch!

2013whatcouldhavebeencollage2Last year, key works by James Joyce and Vir­ginia Woolf final­ly entered the pub­lic domain, at least in Europe. (Find them in our col­lec­tions of Free eBooks and Free Audio Books.) This year, we got pret­ty much bup­kis, espe­cial­ly if we’re talk­ing about the Unit­ed States. Over at the web­site run by The Cen­ter for the Study of the Pub­lic Domain at Duke Uni­ver­si­ty, they write:

What is enter­ing the pub­lic domain in the Unit­ed States? Noth­ing. Once again, we will have noth­ing to cel­e­brate this Jan­u­ary 1st. Not a sin­gle pub­lished work is enter­ing the pub­lic domain this year. Or next year. In fact, in the Unit­ed States, no pub­li­ca­tion will enter the pub­lic domain until 2019. Even more shock­ing­ly, the Supreme Court ruled in 2012 that Con­gress can take back works from the pub­lic domain. Could Shake­speare, Pla­to, or Mozart be pulled back into copy­right? The Supreme Court gave no rea­son to think that they could not be.

The Cen­ter then goes on to enu­mer­ate the works that would have entered the com­mons had we lived under the copy­right laws that pre­vailed until 1978. Under those laws, “thou­sands of works from 1956 would be enter­ing the pub­lic domain. They range from the films The Best Things in Life Are FreeAround the World in 80 DaysFor­bid­den Plan­et, and The Man Who Knew Too Much, to the Phillip K. Dick’s The Minor­i­ty Report and Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Jour­ney into Night, to sem­i­nal arti­cles on arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence.” Have a look at some of the oth­ers, sev­er­al of which appear in the mosa­ic above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lawrence Lessig’s Last Speech on Free Cul­ture. Watch it Online.

Lawrence Lessig Speaks Once Again About Copy­right and Cre­ativ­i­ty

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Watch Raymond Chandler’s Long-Unnoticed Cameo in Double Indemnity

Philip Mar­lowe’s cre­ator Ray­mond Chan­dler did not, to put it mild­ly, seek out the lime­light. Any biog­ra­phy of that most assid­u­ous­ly stud­ied noir nov­el­ist can tell you so, but none can tell you that, albeit for less than a minute, Chan­dler appeared in a clas­sic of the sil­ver screen. The books have a good excuse for leav­ing out that strik­ing­ly unchar­ac­ter­is­tic detail: it took cinephiles decades to notices the cameo. “More than 60 years after its release, a French cin­e­ma his­to­ri­an and two US crime-writ­ers almost simul­ta­ne­ous­ly hap­pened on the same bizarre dis­cov­ery — that Ray­mond Chan­dler, uncred­it­ed and pre­vi­ous­ly unno­ticed, has a tiny cameo in Dou­ble Indem­ni­ty,” writes the Guardian’s Adri­an Woot­ton. “On 14 Jan­u­ary, the Amer­i­can mys­tery writer Mark Cog­gins, tipped off by anoth­er writer, John Bill­heimer, post­ed the news on his web­site, Rior­dan’s desk, while the French jour­nal­ist Olivi­er Eyquem, wrote about on his blog on March 30.”

While I per­son­al­ly rec­om­mend using this rev­e­la­tion as an excuse to watch Bil­ly Wilder’s immor­tal James M. Cain adap­ta­tion again in its entire­ty, you can view a clip of Chan­dler’s brief appear­ance in it above, which includes a slow-motion instant replay. “We will prob­a­bly nev­er know whose idea it was it to put Chan­dler in front of the cam­era, or if it took a few drinks to get him in the mood,” writes the Los Ange­les Times’ Car­olyn Kel­logg about this rare cin­e­mat­ic glimpse of the writer who did so much to earn Los Ange­les its place on the pulp-lit map. “And no one has suc­cess­ful­ly deci­phered the cov­er of what he’s read­ing, which would be nice to know too.” Alas, from this footage of lit­tle more than a seat­ed Chan­dler look­ing up from a book, we can expect to derive no seri­ous insights into his life or work; for those, we’ll need to go right back to the biogra­phies.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ray­mond Chan­dler & Ian Flem­ing in Con­ver­sa­tion (1958)

Ray­mond Chan­dler: There’s No Art of the Screen­play in Hol­ly­wood

The Adven­tures of Philip Mar­lowe: The Radio Episodes

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Hunter S. Thompson Mocks the Living in a New Short Animation

Dr. Hunter S. Thomp­son is back from the grave to mock the liv­ing in a Gonzo ani­ma­tion by Piotr Kabat. The inspi­ra­tion here is one of Thomp­son’s oft-repeat­ed quotes:

THE EDGE, there is no hon­est way to explain it because the only peo­ple who real­ly know where it is are the ones who have gone over.

Kabat chan­nels the spir­it of the orig­i­nal with an impres­sion­is­tic two-minute run from the Gold­en Gate Park down to San­ta Cruz, no hel­met required. Whether or not this sounds cool to you is like­ly to hinge on expe­ri­ence. Per­haps you went to high school with some­one who did­n’t live to cel­e­brate the wind-burned eye­ball sen­sa­tion of push­ing it to 100…

The Edge more than deliv­ers as a surf-rock-and-testos­terone-fueled lit romp, but still, it might’ve been inter­est­ing had Kabat pushed into unchart­ed ter­ri­to­ry. Per­haps have Thomp­son lose con­trol of his bike around the 80 mark, skid­ding hideous­ly on his bald head for how­ev­er many feet it’d take to turn the greyscale red, and roll cred­its on that.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hunter S. Thomp­son Inter­views Kei­th Richards, and Very Lit­tle Makes Sense

John­ny Depp Reads Let­ters from Hunter S. Thomp­son (NSFW)

Hunter S. Thomp­son Calls Tech Sup­port, Unleash­es a Tirade Full of Fear and Loathing (NSFW)

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day saw Hunter S. Thomp­son rant­i­ng like a were­wolf loony on a pri­vate uni­ver­si­ty stage. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

 

 

The Very First Film of J.G. Ballard’s Crash, Starring Ballard Himself (1971)

The Collins Eng­lish Dic­tio­nary defines “Bal­lar­dian” as “resem­bling or sug­ges­tive of the con­di­tions described in J. G. Bal­lard’s nov­els and sto­ries, espe­cial­ly dystopi­an moder­ni­ty, bleak man-made land­scapes and the psy­cho­log­i­cal effects of tech­no­log­i­cal, social or envi­ron­men­tal devel­op­ments.” You’ll find no more dis­tilled dose of the Bal­lar­dian than in Bal­lard’s book The Atroc­i­ty Exhi­bi­tion, a 1969 exper­i­men­tal nov­el, or col­lec­tion of frag­ments, or what’s been called a col­lec­tion of “con­densed nov­els.” Sub­ject to an obscen­i­ty tri­al in the Unit­ed States and the sub­se­quent pulp­ing of near­ly a whole print run, the book has earned a per­ma­nent place in the canon of con­tro­ver­sial lit­er­a­ture. Its twelfth chap­ter, “Crash!”, even pro­vid­ed the seed for a Bal­lard nov­el to come: 1973’s Crash, a sto­ry of sym­phorophil­ia which David Cro­nen­berg adapt­ed into a film 23 years lat­er. The movie, in its turn, stoked a furor in the Unit­ed King­dom, cul­mi­nat­ing in a Dai­ly Mail cam­paign to ban it. But as far as film­ing mate­r­i­al born of Bal­lard’s fas­ci­na­tion with the inter­sec­tion of auto wrecks and sex­u­al­i­ty, Cro­nen­berg did­n’t get there first.

Susan Emer­ling and Zoe Beloff drew from Crash the nov­el to make the still-unre­leased Night­mare Angel in 1986, but fif­teen years before that, Harley Coke­liss turned “Crash!” the chap­ter into Crash! the short film (also known as The Atroc­i­ty Exhi­bi­tion). Cast­ing Bal­lard him­self in the star­ring role and Gabrielle Drake (sis­ter of singer-song­writer Nick Drake) oppo­site, Coke­liss crafts a vision almost oppres­sive­ly of the sev­en­ties: the pro­tag­o­nist’s wide, striped shirt col­lar dom­i­nates his even wider jack­et col­lar below the grim vis­age he wears while ensconced in the suit of armor that is his hulk­ing Amer­i­can vehi­cle. “I think the key image of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry is the man in the motor car,” Bal­lard says in voiceover. “Have we reached a point now in the sev­en­ties where we only make sense in terms of these huge tech­no­log­i­cal sys­tems? I think so myself, and that it is the vital job of the writer to try to ana­lyze and under­stand the huge sig­nif­i­cance of this met­al­lized dream.” If this Bal­lar­dian vision res­onates with you, see also Simon Sel­l­ars’ thor­ough essay on the film at fan site Bal­lar­dian.

Relat­ed Con­tent

Sci-Fi Author J.G. Bal­lard Pre­dicts the Rise of Social Media (1977)

Hear Five JG Bal­lard Sto­ries Pre­sent­ed as Radio Dra­mas

J.G. Ballard’s Exper­i­men­tal Text Col­lages: His 1958 For­ay into Avant-Garde Lit­er­a­ture

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Jack Kerouac’s 30 Beliefs and Techniques For Writing Modern Prose

Image by Tom Palum­bo, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Jack Ker­ouac is the patron saint of every star­ry-eyed, born-too-late, wan­der­lusty hip­ster scribe who falls in love with the poet­ry and vision­ary pow­er of their own inner voice. I may be old and crusty now, but I once fell under Kerouac’s spell and spilled my guts unedit­ed into long ram­bling prose-poems on exis­ten­tial bliss and tantric Bud­dhist bebop. Then lat­er I real­ized some­thing: Kerouac’s Ker­ouac was very good. My Ker­ouac? Not so much. You got­ta do your own thing. I grew out of Kerouac’s influ­ence and didn’t take much of him with me. Then I real­ized that he wasn’t always good. That he’d made the mis­take of every self-pro­claimed genius and stopped let­ting peo­ple tell him “no.” He said so him­self, in a 1968 Paris Review inter­view with Ted Berri­g­an in which he admit­ted that all his edi­tors since the great Mal­colm Cow­ley, “had instruc­tions to leave my prose exact­ly as I wrote it.” Now I know this was part of his method, but some­times the lat­er Ker­ouac need­ed a good edi­tor.

It is a del­i­cate dance, between the inner voice and out­er editor—whether that taskmas­ter is one­self or some­one else—and the great attrac­tion to Ker­ouac is his damn-it-all atti­tude toward tasks and mas­ters. His impro­vi­sa­tion­al prose is the point (I’m sure some­one will tell me I missed it).

Ker­ouac doesn’t just write about free­dom, he writes free­dom, and for most of us tight-assed wor­ry­warts, his voice is heal­ing balm for our writer’s inner exco­ri­a­tions. 1957’s On the Road is an incred­i­ble exper­i­ment in process as prod­uct (it’s not only a nov­el, it’s an art object)–a three-week burst of non-stop, unin­hib­it­ed cre­ativ­i­ty, so leg­end has it, and unequaled in his life­time. And yet despite his aver­sion to tidi­ness, Ker­ouac, like almost every writer, made lists; one in par­tic­u­lar is thir­ty guide­lines he called “Belief & Tech­nique for Mod­ern Prose.” I’ve excerpt­ed what I think are ten high­lights below, either because they seem pro­found­ly beau­ti­ful or pro­found­ly sil­ly, but in a way that only Ker­ouac the holy fool could get away with. This is not “advice for writ­ers.” It’s a cat­a­log of states of being.

1. Scrib­bled secret note­books, and wild type­writ­ten pages, for yr own joy
2. Sub­mis­sive to every­thing, open, lis­ten­ing
3. Try nev­er get drunk out­side yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Some­thing that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumb­saint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bot­tom­less from bot­tom of the mind
9. The unspeak­able visions of the indi­vid­ual
10. No time for poet­ry but exact­ly what is
11. Vision­ary tics shiv­er­ing in the chest
12. In tranced fix­a­tion dream­ing upon object before you
13. Remove lit­er­ary, gram­mat­i­cal and syn­tac­ti­cal inhi­bi­tion
14. Like Proust be an old tea­head of time
15. Telling the true sto­ry of the world in inte­ri­or monolog
16. The jew­el cen­ter of inter­est is the eye with­in the eye
17. Write in rec­ol­lec­tion and amaze­ment for your­self
18. Work from pithy mid­dle eye out, swim­ming in lan­guage sea
19. Accept loss for­ev­er
20. Believe in the holy con­tour of life
21. Strug­gle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Dont think of words when you stop but to see pic­ture bet­ter
23. Keep track of every day the date embla­zoned in yr morn­ing
24. No fear or shame in the dig­ni­ty of yr expe­ri­ence, lan­guage & knowl­edge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pic­tures of it
26. Book­movie is the movie in words, the visu­al Amer­i­can form
27. In praise of Char­ac­ter in the Bleak inhu­man Lone­li­ness
28. Com­pos­ing wild, undis­ci­plined, pure, com­ing in from under, cra­zier the bet­ter
29. You’re a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Direc­tor of Earth­ly movies Spon­sored & Angeled in Heav­en

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

 

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian. He recent­ly com­plet­ed a dis­ser­ta­tion on land, lit­er­a­ture, and labor.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear All Three of Jack Kerouac’s Spo­ken-World Albums: A Sub­lime Union of Beat Lit­er­a­ture and 1950s Jazz

Jack Ker­ouac Lists 9 Essen­tials for Writ­ing Spon­ta­neous Prose

Jack Kerouac’s Poet­ry & Prose Read/Performed by 20 Icons: Hunter S. Thomp­son, Pat­ti Smith, William S. Bur­roughs, John­ny Depp & More

Master Curator Paul Holdengräber Interviews Hitchens, Herzog, Gourevitch & Other Leading Thinkers

Paul Hold­en­gräber is the kind of cul­tur­al gad­about that makes New York one of the great­est cities to live in, since New York­ers like him are for­ev­er track­ing down the world’s best writ­ers, thinkers, and artists and rop­ing them into inti­mate, unscript­ed pub­lic inter­views, dis­cus­sions, and per­for­mances. He belongs in the com­pa­ny of such lumi­nary inter­view­ers as James Lip­ton or Char­lie Rose, but Hold­en­gräber does some­thing so many cura­tors of cul­ture don’t—he pulls things from his sub­jects that you’ve nev­er heard them say before, and he does it because he’s seem­ing­ly fear­less and a con­sum­mate ama­teur in the best sense of the word: he’s a lover—of lit­er­a­ture, the arts, music, phi­los­o­phy, and most of all, con­ver­sa­tion. A recent Wall Street Jour­nal pro­file described Hold­en­graber as the “only one man in New York who pos­sess­es the com­ple­ment of skills—charm, eru­di­tion, curios­i­ty and per­haps most of all chutz­pah” to pull off what appear to be casu­al chats–but which Hold­en­gräber care­ful­ly prepares–with peo­ple like Pete Town­shend, Colum McCann, Umber­to Eco, and just about any­one else you could think of.

Hold­en­gräber works as cura­tor of LIVE from the NYPL, a reg­u­lar event described as “Cog­ni­tive The­ater” that has fea­tured pre­vi­ous guests like Harold Bloom, Pat­ti Smith, Jay‑Z, and Colm Toib­in. It’s some­thing of a vari­ety show. Some events put two com­ple­men­tary fig­ures in con­ver­sa­tion with each oth­er, such as this past November’s con­ver­sa­tion between the par­doned West Mem­phis Three sus­pect Damien Echols and for­mer Black Flag singer Hen­ry Rollins; some fea­ture sur­pris­ing, out-of-char­ac­ter per­for­mances, such as a read­ing of the mod­ern clas­sic kid’s book for adults, Go the F*ck to Sleep, as dead­panned by the voice of exis­ten­tial despair, Wern­er Her­zog; and some­times LIVE takes place in tra­di­tion­al inter­view for­mat, with Hold­en­gräber doing what he does best, get­ting fas­ci­nat­ing peo­ple to tell sto­ries about them­selves. For exam­ple, Hold­en­gräber sat down in June, 2010 for a lengthy talk with Christo­pher Hitchens, who had just pub­lished his mem­oir, Hitch 22. Lit­tle did either of them know that Hitchens would be gone in less than two years. In the short clip above, Hitchens and Hold­en­gräber talk about mor­tal­i­ty, both onstage and dur­ing an inti­mate back­stage smoke break. Watch the full video of their talk below, and find the sched­ule for upcom­ing talks here.

As if his cura­to­r­i­al work for the NYPL were not enough, Hold­en­gräber also hosts The Paul Hold­en­gräber Show, which pre­miered last year on YouTube’s Intel­li­gent Chan­nel. Here he gets the chance to flex his inter­view mus­cles away from the audi­ences in a small stu­dio set­ting. Now nine episodes in, the show has fea­tured an unpre­dictable line­up of guests such as mas­ter chef David Chang, Eat, Pray, Love author Eliz­a­beth Gilbert, Robin Hood Foun­da­tion man­ag­ing direc­tor Eric Wein­gart­ner, and this past July, New York­er writer Philip Goure­vitch. In their con­ver­sa­tion below, Hold­en­gräber and Goure­vitch have a con­ver­sa­tion that swings effort­less­ly from report­ing on inter­na­tion­al tragedy and war to writ­ing a piece on James Brown to Gourevitch’s love for the Bib­li­cal sto­ry of Jon­ah and the whale. Goure­vitch retells the sto­ry with the inten­si­ty and vivid­ness of an eye­wit­ness and the inci­sive com­men­tary of a Tal­mu­dic schol­ar. It’s a moment only Paul Hold­en­gräber could set up.

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian. He recent­ly com­plet­ed a dis­ser­ta­tion on land, lit­er­a­ture, and labor.

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